


Kiss My Tears

by Star_Nymph



Series: To The Moon and Back [25]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Asperger Inquisitor, Asperger Syndrome, Drug Use, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Lyrium Withdrawal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:01:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26741038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_Nymph/pseuds/Star_Nymph
Summary: Prompt from cullenvhenan "6. …on a falling tear".
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford
Series: To The Moon and Back [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/745017
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Kiss My Tears

The flame lit at the tip of her finger is the only thing to light the otherwise dark room, the candles long blown out—or perhaps they were never lit to begin with. Eurydice enters the room in a hush, careful to close the door behind her without a yawn or disturbing click. There’s nothing to scare away, the shadows settled across the furniture like long, delicate cloaks of satin and velvet, but as she walks deeper inside, she hears something.

A sniff.

A sharp intake of air through clench teeth.

The hysterical, inane whine made by only the frightened, the trapped, the damaged, and the hurt. Weak and shrill as a child’s nightmare ridden whimper or a hound who sees its death at the edge of its owner’s incoming knife.

Eurydice crosses over the carpet and feels something cut into the heel of her left foot and slices her toes. She lowers her flame and sees glass shattered across the floor, the remnants of an old dark oak box splintered everywhere, a broken statue cracked into two, and blue. Vivid, coursing blue liquid that held the stars in its drops, stirring to a strange life as her light passed over it. It reeked of magic and Eurydice held her breath as she passed over it, the very smell of the lyrium igniting excitement in her veins.

It was unimportant; the hurried breaths behind the shape of a desk were becoming louder and harsher still and she rushed as she saw something trembling in the darkness. It was a creature huddled into a ball, on its knees with lyrium smeared on its hands, its feet, on a cheek, in its golden hair. As she bends down, the light of her flamed hand shines upon it and reveals not a creature, not a child, but a man. Cullen holds his head in his hands down between his thighs as if trying to twist hard enough into nonexistence. He’s sobbing, though if there is any meaning to it, she cannot tell. She suspects it doesn’t matter—she’s been through enough of these moments to know he would barely remember later speaking to her.

“Cullen,” Eurydice urges as softly as she can as she worms her fingers under one of his hands, trying to pry it from his face, “Ena’vun. Come to me.”

Cullen fights her, moaning as he tries to shove away from her, saying “please, please, please” over and over again, but something catches his eye—maybe the flame, maybe her glowing eyes, maybe just the sense of her—he wills himself to look at her. He is disheveled; his face flush and dirt with strikes of tears and snot from his nose, his hair curled and tossed as if ripped at wildly. 

He looks almost smashed, his eyes hazed and wet as they skirt across her face and down her body. He opens his mouth to say something but only another brittle hiccup comes out. 

Cullen’s face crumbles as he stares at her. “I…” He manages as he looks down at his smeared blue hands, shaking his head from side to side, and cries out, “I—I…I tried…! I didn’t want to, I c-couldn’t–!”

His hands become fists and he beats them into his forehead as tears begin to once again rush down his face.

“No. Stop.” The flames go out as Eurydice surges forward and grabs him by the wrist. He refuses at first to let her pull his hands away from him but he’s weak, his limbs as brittle as thin branches on a windswept tree. Eventually, he gives in and lets her draw him close. Eurydice wraps her arms around his head and wipes the lyrium smear from his face.

“I know. It is hard. It is okay.” She whispers as she feels him bury himself into her, his hands knotted in her hair as he all but drops his full weight on her. It’s alright, she catches him easily enough as he lets out a heart-wrenching cry, the two of them a collapsed heap against the desk.

“I…Iiiiii—I’m s-sso sorry.” He speaks into the hollow of her neck, his voice like the swell of a wave beating against her heart.

Eurydice closes her eyes and kisses where she can reach—the corner of his eye, her lips touch tears and she can taste the lyrium in them. 

“You are strong. You tried. Hamin.” She says, her body wrapping like a shield around him, her hair draping over him like a blanket to hide from thunder under, her hands grasping all his discarded pieces and holding them together. She kisses him again, the ache of his cry a vibration in her bones, and tells him, “Ar lasa mala eth, ma ena’vun.”


End file.
